Not Quickly Broken
by YLJedi
Summary: Instead of the Joker crashing the party, the party itself is kidnapped away. Without his mask, everything rests on Gotham's honest cop, its white knight…and its playboy prince.
1. Chapter 1

Fast cars, fast women. Mind-numbingly long parties. That was Lt. Gordon's summation. He had been stuck at Bruce Wayne's celebratory party for over two hours with no end in sight. And the hero Harvey Dent, the star of tonight's extravaganza, hadn't even shown up yet.

Not that anyone seemed to notice. Everyone had their eyes on Wayne. Even Gordon watched him – one couldn't help it. The host glided through the room, effortlessly suave as he played the courteous host. He was such a gentleman at it that you almost didn't notice that he had two dates for the evening and no compunctions against snuggling up to everyone else's.

Gordon didn't approve of Wayne's lifestyle, at least the parts he saw plastered to the tabloids he only glanced at in the check-out lines. But then the paper's more reliable reports were just as embarrassing. An empty-headed playboy with nothing to do and too much money with which to do it. But while Gordon would privately sneer at the behavior and scandals of any of the other spoiled elite at this party, he could never do that with Wayne. No matter who he had grown up to be, Gordon just would never be able to judge the little boy shivering quietly in the station.

"Wayne certainly knows how to throw a party."

Gordon turned. "Dent. When'd you get here?"

The DA looked harried. Not because of his clothes – his business suit was impeccable as always. It was more in his hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it once or twice or thirty and now it refused to settle. It was also in his posture – one hand always returning to a pocket, the stiff shoulders, and the subtle shifting of weight. He looked about as comfortable at this shindig as Gordon, a point of commonality that surprised the detective.

"Just a few minutes ago. I should still be in the office working, but the mayor insisted I come. No one can say no to Bruce Wayne right?"

"Well I'm sure I'll find someone." Wayne came up behind them, a voluptuous brunette glued to his side. "Someday." He grinned, full of ivory teeth and polite insincerity. "How are you Harvey?"

"Very busy Mr. Wayne."

"Oh come on Harvey, relax. I told you I would throw you a fundraiser."

"I thought this was a celebration for the Lau trial."

Bruce handed him a glass. "Well if you can kill 500 birds with one stone, I figured I could do two."

The model on his arm pouted. "Bruce you promised me another dance."

Bruce laughed and squeezed her to him.

"If you'll excuse me gentlemen." It was the first time Wayne had even acknowledged Gordon's presence. The two of them watched Wayne escort his date to the dance floor.

"At least he didn't invite the whole Russian ballet," Harvey muttered as he took a gulp.

Gordon carefully hid a smile behind his drink. He'd heard of Wayne's "love boat" stunt a few weeks back, and the detectives in his office had - all too gleefully - gossiped that it had interfered with Harvey Two-Face's own ballet plans.

"Since when is Wayne fundraising for you?"

"Since now I guess. We had dinner together a while back – Rachel knows him," he clarified at Gordon's expression.

The beckoning of other guests drew Dent away. Gordon glanced around – there was no one else he wanted or would be comfortable talking to. He checked his watch; surely he could run away now. He'd served his time. Even the commissioner would have to admit that.

Gordon took two steps before the world exploded around him.

* * *

Dent. He had to find Dent. Gordon picked himself up and looked frantically around. People were ducking everywhere, scrambling to get away from the bullets pelting in through the shattered windows.

Armed men swarmed in from the elevators, and Gordon didn't think Wayne had his own private army.

He found him. "Dent! Come on!" Gordon pulled him up and tried to shield him as they ran. He had to use the mayhem to his own advantage. Get Dent down the hall, sneak him out.

It was useless. Three of the gunmen blocked their path. The others swarmed onto the floor, grabbing as many of the conscious guests as possible and herding them to the elevators.

All too soon they were outside and thrown into the backs of moving trucks. Over twenty to a truck, the doors locked, and they took off.

The operation had lasted maybe ten minutes.

The only thing Gordon could do was shield the ladies as they were tossed back and forth. Every bump and turn crashed them into each other. Gordon tried to keep track of the turns and the time between each one, but it was useless. For all he could tell they could be in Canada or Mexico.

A sound drew his attention. While most of the others had lapsed into shock, one woman was still sobbing. Gordon made his way through to her.

It was one of Wayne's dates. And cradled in her arms…

"What happened?" he demanded as he took him from her. Wane was unconscious, blood slowly seeping from a gash to the back of his head. "Head wounds bleed a lot," he tried to reassure the distraught date as he tore off a piece of his shirt and pressed it to the wound.

Just then the vans slowed. Everyone tensed, waiting. Gordon stood.

And then the doors swung open and sudden floodlights blinded them all. In that moment of disorientation the bad guys rushed in. A man shoved Gordon away from Wayne and tossed the billionaire carelessly out of the truck. Immediately Gordon jumped out and returned to his side. The others slowly followed.

They were in a cavernous warehouse, all steel and girders and shipping containers. Gordon had seen far too many of these in his years on the force, and now he had a decent idea where they were. The Narrows. Not that that knowledge helped anything.

"Well well, I do believe it's Harvey Dent.," a smooth voice mocked out of the shadows. A dapper older gentleman stepped into the light. Tall, darkly handsome, perfectly tailored and pressed suit. Gordon didn't recognize him, but he'd lay even money on him being an associate of Maroni's.

The leader surveyed the party guests with pointed indifference. Then with a smile he stepped back, and the minions moved. Harvey was immediately shoved next to Bruce Wayne's prone form, and almost all the young ladies were shuffled to the side. The wealthiest and powerful of Gotham's elite were placed next to Dent.

Then the gangsters were pulling Gordon over to the lessers.

"Wait," the leader raised a hand. "Don't you recognize Gordon, Batman's friend?" His lip curled. "The honest cop. Put him with the others."

And with that the two groups were thrown into their separate holding containers.

* * *

"Any idea who these guys are?" one of the younger millionaires was the first of the group to speak.

"My guess would be criminals," offered Harvey.

Great, they were already sniping at each other. Gordon rubbed his eyes. This was shaping up to be a great kidnapping.

"What I want to know is where was Wayne's freaking security? These guys just waltz in and kidnap all of Wayne's guests and nobody lifts a finger to stop them!?"

Gordon instinctively pulled Wayne a little closer to him. Since he had been with him in the truck, it had been an unspoken assumption that he would take care of the playboy in here as well. And Gordon could admit he liked not feeling completely useless in this situation.

Time passed slowly. The other men shuffled around, stretching their legs. Gordon and Dent stayed together. Dent was quietly analyzing what the bad guys' motives were, who they were working for, etc. Gordon listened, letting the DA talk, adding his own thoughts only when needed. It was comfortable, almost familiar. They'd become a surprisingly good team, him and Harvey Two-Face.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?" Gordon was surprised both at the observation and at the slight note of genuine concern in Dent's voice.

"I think so, but I'm not a doctor."

"No one is. You'd think one person in this trust fund guild would have been a doctor."

"His father was."

Just then the billionaire groaned and shifted.

"Mr. Wayne?" Gordon reached out. "Mr. Wayne can you hear me?"

The billionaire's eyebrows furrowed. "Gordon?"

The policeman was stunned at the recognition. "Yes, Mr. Wayne. How are you feeling?"

Immediately Wayne stiffened. A beat. He opened his eyes. "Where am I?" His voice had changed in some way that Gordon couldn't pinpoint.

The same young, vapid heir piped up from where he was sitting. "You're in a warehouse Bruce. Surprise."

"Why?"

"Some bad guys came in and interrupted your party and kidnapped all your guests. We need to have a talk about your security."

Gordon turned. "Not right now, okay?" His voice was soft but final (Barbara referred to it as his 'domestic dispute' voice), and the young man shrugged and backed off.

Wayne painstakingly pushed himself into a sitting position; Gordon put a hand out to steady him.

"How do you feel?"

Wayne stifled a groan. "Not bad."

"You've got a hard head Wayne I'll give you that."

Gordon looked at Dent disapprovingly.

To his relief Wayne didn't appear bothered by it. Closing his eyes he rested his head on the wall. "Any idea who the bad guys are?"

Gordon added another makeshift bandage as Wayne's movements restarted the bleeding. "Dent here thinks they're criminals." He couldn't resist.

"I guess the district attorney would know."

Dent just scowled at them.

"What do they want?"

"So far they haven't said. They just separated us into two groups, with the VIPs in here. Ginger and Mary Ann are with the others."

At that Bruce opened his eyes. "Who are Ginger and Mary Ann?"

Gordon had the grace to look embarrassed at his unprofessional phrasing. "Your dates for the evening."

Dent snorted. "Really Gordon?"

"Well what did you want me to say? Bimbo #1 and Bimbo #2?" Gordon snapped at him, and then he realized what he said. He winced. "My apologies Mr. Wayne. I'm sure they're…lovely girls." Dent shook his head at him. He was digging himself in deeper and deeper.

A smile tugged at the corners of Bruce's mouth. "You should have said that in the first place Lieutenant; I would've understood you a lot faster."

Wayne suddenly straightened. "Rachel. Where's Rachel?"

Harvey put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax Bruce. Rachel wasn't even at the party. _She_ was able to keep working on the case," he couldn't help adding.

Bruce looked around the room, finally looking at who was in there. "And Alfred?" he asked slowly.

"He's not here, and I didn't see him with the others. I don't know."

Bruce's face tightened, but after a moment he nodded. "And how did these criminals break into my party?"

Gordon took over the report. "One, maybe two shot out the windows from another building, and about twelve gunmen rode up the elevator."

A perfectly groomed eyebrow lifted. "I guess we do need to have a talk about my security." He frowned. "And why don't I remember any of this?"

"Well, according to" Gordon stumbled a bit and finally settled on, "Mary Ann, you two were near a window when it exploded and it knocked you out."

The billionaire just stared at him. "Seriously?"

He muttered the next under his breath but Gordon caught it.

"Alfred will never let me live that down."


	2. Chapter 2

The leader stepped into the prison flanked by three henchmen. "And how are we all doing?"

No one said anything.

"Excellent. Well let's get this show on the road. Will all the ladies step forward please?"

That got their attention. The men stepped protectively in front of the few women in the room.

The leader clucked his tongue. "Now now, no need for alarm. They'll only be going for pictures, so Gotham has some innocent faces to go with the demands."

"What demands?"

"I'm glad you asked, because this is all due to you, Mr. Dent. You will all be held until every single one of the people you arrested is found innocent of all wrong-doing and released."

Dent exchanged a glance with Gordon. "That's insane. There's no way that can happen. Or that it could hold up in court if all this is for the double jeopardy law."

"I'd be more concerned about whether it gets done rather than the legal ramifications after the fact," the man quietly advised, his face darkening. "And let's help get it done. So now ladies if you'll come with us for just a moment. We'll take you too Mr. Dent. And why not Gotham's very own prince. That should be enough."

Gordon couldn't take it. He stepped forward to do…something, but Dent took his arm. "No Gordon," he murmured. "Don't try anything. Not yet."

"He's right," Wayne agreed quietly. The two of them made their way forward and Gordon let them all go.

He was the only cop in the room, and he just let four hostages be taken out of his sight.

Jim had never felt so useless. Or alone.

* * *

An hour later they returned. The women were fighting tears, Dent was seething, and Wayne – Wayne was ashen.

Dent warned him with a glare not to say anything. Wayne eased his way back down next to Gordon (a surprise to him, since he figured Wayne would prefer to sit with his friends now) while Dent resorted to furiously pacing. The other guests moved to comfort the women, who cried a little but they weren't talking either.

Bruce drew a breath, and finally seemed to regain his composure. "Dent sit down."

Harvey barely spared him a glance. "I'll sit down when I want to sit down."

The billionaire snorted. Harvey paused, then settled against a wall as if in compromise. "Sorry." It was clear he was apologizing for more than the pacing.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

The idiot millionaire boy spoke up again. "You're sorry Dent? What did you do?"

"He didn't do anything," Bruce snapped at his friend for the first time.

"So what did they do?"

"Nothing they took pictures."

Tension began to build in the room as the two millionaires butted heads. It was clear from the others' reactions that they were not used to seeing Wayne so ill tempered.

"Well they obviously did more than take pictures."

"Yeah they kidnapped a bunch of people and are holding them hostage."

The blonde millionaire opened his mouth to retort, but Gordon held up a hand in warning.

Harvey spoke into the strained silence that followed. "What about those demands? What is the mayor going to do?"

Gordon shook his head. "He can't do it. It would be illegal."

One of the older billionaires snorted. "Like that would stop Garcia."

And like a shot the rest of the room was off, giving their two-cents worth about what the outside world would do for them. Gordon didn't add anything else to the discussion. While the powerful and elite of Gotham argued Jim stood and joined Dent. The DA had kept silent after initiating the discussion (that rather coincidentally, Gordon noticed, shifted the attention away from Wayne). Up close he could see how much Dent was still rattled.

"Are you all right?"

Dent didn't take his eyes off Wayne. There was fury there, but it wasn't directed at the billionaire. He refused to acknowledge his presence, but Gordon waited him out.

"They'd planned for us." When Dent finally spoke his voice was tight, the rage still simmering under the surface. "Planned the photo shoot all out. One group picture, and then individual ones with our very own background sets."

"Background sets?"

"Yep. So old Lady Milton was photographed in front of a blown-up image of her hospital and hospital equipment all around her, Hackworth surrounded with all her clothing designs." A disdained huff. "They went real original with me and just stuck me in front of a courtroom."

"And Wayne?" Gordon quietly prompted after Dent had fallen silent.

"And they put Wayne in front of an opera house. Pretty much recreated his parents' murder."

Dent clenched his fist, his nails digging into his skin. "They were dying to see him break down, but he never gave them anything. Just stood there and let them do what they wanted without batting an eye."

There was wonder mixing with the rage in Dent's voice. Gordon wasn't so surprised. A reenactment at thirty wouldn't be able to do what the real thing hadn't done at eight.

Dent took a slow, careful breath, let it out. He gave a faint, humorless smile. "I'll be going for the death penalty."

Wayne didn't surprise him. Dent's reaction on his behalf did. For the first time Gordon could truly see the idealism in the young DA, the fervor for justice. It made him feel old.

Gordon sometimes wished he could be an idealist as well. But he'd spent far too long surrounded by Gotham's smothering corruption to be anything more than a realist. And he'd called it, that night on the roof.

Things had gotten ugly.


	3. Chapter 3

"If we could only get access to a phone."

"Yeah and if I could get access to a DeLorean I could go back in time, save us all, and we wouldn't be having this ridiculous discussion."

Gordon rubbed his eyes. "I know you're a lawyer, but can you try _not_ antagonizing the others?"

"Would you rather I ask you which one of your men sold all of us out?"

Gordon ignored that; Dent was just trying to pick a fight. He had calmed down enough to return to their spot away from the others, but his nerves and the inactivity were firing him up again.

Bruce spoke up for him. "I don't think anyone from the police force sold us out. It was just bad security on my part."

"Thank you Mr. Wayne but you don't need to do that." Gordon was polite, but judging by Wayne's reaction, he hadn't been able to completely hide his irritation with being defended by a civilian.

"But thanks," he repeated, softening his tone. Wayne didn't deserve that, especially after what he'd already been through.

Dent ripped off his tie, still clearly agitated. "How long have we been here? They haven't given us a deadline either."

"I don't think they want us preparing." Gordon answered. "Besides they'll probably do it individually anyway. Kill one person every hour until the demands are met."

"Gordon you are one of the most depressing people I have ever met."

"I'm not, I'm just a realist Dent. We couldn't do anything when they first got us, we can't do anything now," he snapped back much harsher than he intended. His frustration was getting the better of him too.

"Lieutenant you can't blame yourself." Once again Wayne was coming to his defense. "No one here does. You couldn't have done anything. These are a ton of men with a ton of big guns." A smile. "You're not John McClane."

"Now there's something I want to see. 'Lieutenant Gordon, yippee-ki-yay mother – "

"Thank you Dent," Jim interrupted irritably. Wayne hid his laugh behind a cough. At least it was cheering _them_ up, Gordon conceded.

And it was motivating Dent. "So let's say McClane was in here. How would he get out of it?"

"It's impossible."

"Humor me, Detective."

"There's only one way out of this place, locked from the outside." Gordon was in no mood to humor anyone. "They have multiple men with machine guns at the ready every time they open the door. We rush the door they mow us down. It's as simple as that. Counselor."

"And besides Harvey did you even watch _Die Hard_? The only reason McClane was able to win was because he didn't get caught in the first sweep. He was never a hostage. We are."

Dent refused to give in to their pessimism. "So forget McClane. All we need right now is Batman."

"Our Caesar," Wayne saluted.

"Yes our Caesar," Dent repeated, irritated.

Gordon tried to understand the sudden turn this conversation had taken. "_Julius_ Caesar?"

Wayne heaved a sigh. "Harvey here thinks that our Batman is like Julius Caesar-when he was good. He was a hero who made it his sole duty to protect Rome from all evil."

"Poetic."

"He is a politician."

"Well it's nice and all, but right now I'd want the Batman to be Lassie not Caesar."

Bruce blinked. "Lassie?"

"You think of Batman as Lassie?"

"No I don't think of him as Lassie, but I don't think even _he_ can take on all these men by himself."

"And so you want Batman to go to the police and tell them Timmy fell down the well?" The playboy frowned. "But that makes us Timmy."

Dent ignored the billionaire's less than helpful comments. "But to do that he has to talk to the police, and has he ever talked to anyone other than you Gordon?"

Gordon did not appreciate the spotlight being thrown onto him. "I don't think so."

Wayne looked at him, impressed. "Really? He only talks to you? Why you?"

Gordon shifted. "I wouldn't know. Because I'm a cop." _A good cop. One of the few._

Dent sighed in exasperation. "There's no need for false humility Gordon. We all know why he picked you."

"I don't," Wayne protested, and for the first time in a while Gordon thought of him as a playboy socialite, eager for any bit of gossip.

"I worked in the Internal Affairs office for two years. Investigated every cop on the force. Gordon's the cleanest you'll ever meet."

Gordon stared at Dent. He'd never heard the tiniest compliment from the man before.

Dent noticed. "I'm not blind. I know _you're_ clean. It's everyone around you. I'm not trying to start anything," Dent raised his hands, "I'm just stating fact. You're clean. That's why he picked you."

"So if you're the only one he has talked to who will he go to now?"

"Right now I hope he just calls 911." Which was true, but he also wasn't going to speculate about his unit or Batman in front of a room full of civilians. And powerful civilians at that.

"But before that he has to find us. You wouldn't happen to have a bat call on you Gordon?"

"You think I'd have a spotlight on the roof if I had him on speed dial?"

"I have a watch."

They both turned and stared at Wayne's non sequitur.

Dent hesitated. "A watch that can call Batman?"

Bruce huffed. "No. I have some techno watch with a button that will send my GPS to my penthouse."

Dent stared at him. "And you haven't pressed it because…"

"I've been trying, but I don't know, the walls are distorting the signal. It was working for a little bit when they took us out of here. So if I can get out of here again…"

"You can bring in the DeLorean."

Bruce smiled. "Or at least a white-haired old butler."

"But how are you going to get out of here when Debbie Downer here says it's impossible?"

Gordon analyzed the options. "If all we have to do is get out of here for just a few minutes, then it needs to be simple. Go to the bathroom."

Dent considered it. "Could work. But what if they tell him to just go in here?"

"Don't worry about that." Bruce stood up, fixing his tie. "No one can say no to Bruce Wayne." A charming smile and again the playboy surfaced.

Gordon shook his head. "You're not going to do it, you're a civilian."

Wayne opened his mouth to protest but Gordon cut him off. "I can't let you do it, I'm sorry."

"Lieutenant I'm not going to go out there and karate-chop the bad guys. All I'll do is go to the bathroom, press a button on my watch, and come right back. It's simple."

"I know it's simple, but I'm going to do it."

"Gordon I have to agree with Wayne on this one. You're a cop, they'd watch you like a hawk, whereas him-"

"This isn't up for discussion."

"Lieutenant please. Harvey's right. I'm not going to go out and be a hero, believe me. But I have a better shot than you do."

"No."

"Gordon," Wayne hissed, exasperated. Gordon's head snapped up at the tone and the unfamiliar address.

"Look, why don't we do this the democratic way all right?" Dent dug into his pocket. "Heads Wayne goes, tails you do."


	4. Chapter 4

"I never actually agreed to the coin toss."

It had happened too fast for Gordon to do anything about it. Harvey had flipped his coin, it landed heads, and like a shot Wayne was off pounding on the door before Gordon could mount a protest. Once Wayne had done that Gordon knew he couldn't interfere – it would just make the criminals suspicious and blow any chance they had.

"Don't be a sore loser Gordon."

* * *

Bruce waited until they were hopefully out of earshot of the group. Both guards were escorting him; one was behind, the other leading the way. Both were clearly not paying him much attention. Stupid. And costly.

Bruce drew up short.

"Get going," the goon behind him nudged him with his gun.

Bruce flicked his eyes at the shadows above. "I thought I saw – never mind," he quickly shifted to nonchalance and resumed walking.

That got their attention. Though still escorting Bruce, both guards' gazes fixated on the ceiling.

Slowly Bruce unclasped his watch. He waited, preparing himself. Two more steps, and he threw the watch into the corner.

The guards whirled at the sound, and he instantly melted into the shadows. In milliseconds he ripped off his jacket, throwing it high up into the air. It was the final distraction he needed.

A quick jab to the rear guard's throat, and then he was using him as leverage to kick the other square in the jaw. The second was out for the count. He then spun around and leveled a punch that would've taken down Ali.

Two down in less than ten seconds, and hopefully his distractions were enough to make them think Batman had done it (which technically, he reminded himself, he had).

He stripped one of his jacket and cell phone, then dragged both into a closet, binding them with their shoelaces.

Clinging to the shadows, he ran soundlessly down the hall. He could always engage 600, but Gordon was right; reinforcement was the game. All he wanted was to know where exactly they were. If only he had actually worn a hi-tech watch instead of his playboy Rolex.

A window; he could see the main bridge. Okay that meant he was in the Narrows. He switched directions.

Found another window. He could see – other warehouses. Well that narrowed it down. He needed to get higher.

* * *

"He should've been back by now." Something had gone wrong. Gordon knew it.

"It's only been five minutes. Relax."

"Relax," Gordon muttered under his breath. He twisted his body trying to find a comfortable position along the wall.

Harvey watched him fidget. "Have you ever actually relaxed a day in your life?"

"I just let a civilian walk out of here on some harebrained scheme, and he could be dead for all we know. I'm not going to relax."

"He's not dead. It's not rocket science, and Wayne's not an idiot. He can do this."

"It doesn't matter if he _can_ do this, he shouldn't have had to."

Dent rolled his eyes. "That again? I don't mean to bruise your ego, but it doesn't take a badge to walk to the bathroom and back. He'll be fine."

* * *

There. He knew where they were. Quickly he dialed 911 and growled the information. He hung up before the startled operator had a chance to respond. He had a lot to do.

Break it down: keep all bad guys away from the hostages until the cops arrive, taking out as many as possible. Make everyone believe it was Batman doing it. Destroy any and all evidence to the contrary.

It wasn't as impossible a task as it seemed. Keep to the shadows and tap into the fear he had already created. The only thing was he didn't have was any of his bat- branded weapons.

But he was in a warehouse, and he had the disassembled parts of one of the goons' guns. Time to MacGyver it up.

* * *

Too much time had passed. Even Dent couldn't kid himself any longer. Something had gone wrong.

The attorney was subdued. He rolled a coin nervously through his fingers. "I didn't think it was that dangerous."

Gordon was about to encourage the DA when his statement and actions got his attention. Silently cursing himself, he reached out and took the coin.

He turned it over. And just stared at it.

Dent couldn't take the silence. "I thought he had a better chance," he argued, full of defiance.

Gordon was not a vindictive sort; he knew Dent had just been trying to help. He could also hear the guilt buried beneath the attitude. Besides, it was done.

"Well you were probably right about that," he admitted mildly.

He held the coin back out, and after a moment's surprised hesitation Dent took it.

* * *

Two more goons down. They had to know something was going on now.

His priority above all else was the safety of the hostages. Then he could take on the rest.

* * *

The door to their prison creaked slowly open. Gordon and Dent shot to their feet.

No one appeared in the doorway.

"Well that's not creepy," Dent broke the silence.

Gordon took a step forward. "Stay here," he addressed the room.

He cautiously made his way to the open door. Harvey was right on his heels, but Gordon wasn't going to waste time fighting a losing battle.

No one was outside; the warehouse was dark and empty. He stepped out of the door. On the ground in front of him were two assault rifles and a cell phone -

- that began to ring. Eyes searching the warehouse he bent down and retrieved the phone. He pressed the button and waited.

"Gordon," a voice growled in his ear.

"Where are you?" Gordon asked, hope flaring to life. He turned and motioned Dent out. He nodded at the DA's silent question.

"Here." Succinct as always. "Police are on their way. Stay there; I'm going after the rest."

"Wait. Bruce Wayne's out there. He—"

"Taken care of. He's safe." There was a bit of disgust in his voice as the Bat discussed Wayne. Before Gordon could inquire further the line went dead.

Pocketing the cell he turned to Dent. "Ever shot a gun?"

Dent stared at the assault rifles, his mouth twisted. "Never one like that."

"Hopefully you still won't have to." He quickly walked Dent through the basics. He then positioned the DA into the shadows. "Keep the safety on. Don't even think about shooting until I'm dead on the ground and a bad guy's five feet away from you. I don't want you accidentally shooting a cop. Or yourself."

"Cheerful as ever Gordon," Dent muttered, but he nodded acceptance.

Gordon left him and took up his own position on the other side, giving him full view of the winding, metal stairs and the only available entryway.

Dent was wrong; he was so ecstatic he was almost shaking with relief. They were all going to make it out of this.

His partner was here.


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce crashed down the stairs, his head connecting painfully with the floor. Blindly he groped for the rifle, swinging it out just in time to bash the jaws of the Rottweiler leaping down onto him.

He staggered to his feet and escaped into the next hallway, slamming the door shut. He took a moment to catch his breath.

Without any of his powerful advantages, his only weapons were fear and stealth. A quick trip to the basement and he'd cut off all electricity for the mobsters (oh the cute tricks he'd learned when he'd hobnobbed with criminals). But while the complete darkness impeded the mobsters' abilities to track him, it did very little against the dogs they had unleashed.

His vision was spotty, and he was pretty sure his balance was slipping. Either that or these were the most poorly designed hallways he'd ever walked down.

Bruce hated it, but he'd done his part. He'd taken down six, armed Gordon, and called for backup. He needed to take care of himself now.

SWAT just better get here fast.

* * *

Dent stayed in the shadows, careful to keep his gun pointed down and away from his body.

He didn't know how the Batman had managed to pull this one off, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

So far no one – good or bad – had come. They'd heard machine-gun fire once or twice but now it had gone back to being quiet. The quiet was scaring him more than anything else had during this whole situation. He didn't know what it meant: if the Batman had taken out the criminals – or if the criminals had gotten him.

He still remembered the figure crashing against the window in the mayor's office and the gut-wrenching fear and rage he'd felt when he'd thought it was really him. He'd rushed forward even as the mayor leaped away. The elation, the triumph of a moment ago – a moment only made possible by the Batman's ability to bring him the _im_possible - soured as he stood, staring at the corpse, at the enemy's answering volley.

It hadn't been the Batman then.

It could be now.

Harvey's head snapped up as he heard noises above. Gunfire sounded again – and then answering gunfire. Lots of it.

Harvey sagged in relief when the door burst open and SWAT swarmed down the stairs.

* * *

"I want this building secured now!"

Harvey watched with more than a little amusement as Gordon took charge. Gone was the soft-spoken, mild-mannered man he usually encountered. In his place was the coldly furious lieutenant of the Major Crimes Unit.

"Mr. Dent." Harvey turned; through the bobbing flashlights he could see a member of the SWAT team approaching him. "We'll take your weapon sir."

Oh. He'd forgotten he still had it. Gingerly he handed it over to the man, asking and receiving an extra flashlight in exchange.

Now armed with light he made his way over to Gordon, who was striding through the torrent of cops, throwing out orders to everyone he came across.

"They find Wayne yet?"

The detective was too distracted to even look at him. "Not yet." He shined his flashlight on a cop. "Why don't we have lights in here yet?"

"Are we going to go look for him?"

Gordon finally glanced at him. "_We're_ not."

Ramirez ran up to them. "Here you are sir." She handed Gordon his pistol. Smith & Wesson Harvey noted - about as American as you could get.

Harvey frowned at the detective's answer. "Gordon I've seen more of this place than you have, I can help."

"It's not even secured up there yet." Gordon had joined a small group of SWAT who were starting their ascent up the stairs.

"Gordon –"

"Detective, if Mr. Dent tries to follow us arrest him on interfering with a police investigation."

"Funny Gordon." As Gordon ran up the stairs Harvey called after him, "But who's going to prosecute me, me or my girlfriend?"

* * *

Harvey kept himself busy, instantly taking charge of the detectives and helping them organize the chaos. He walked into the middle of the hostage huddle. The trust fund brigade was getting restless, and Harvey could practically feel the upper class rediscovering their power and bite. He felt the nerves from the party return.

"We're almost out of here, but I need you to be patient for a little while longer. And I know we've all been through a lot, but please do not discuss what happened with each other or anyone else. Wait until your official statement. We don't want to give their lawyers any opening."

The rich men decided to sink their teeth into Harvey, and for the next few minutes Harvey tried his best to respond to their impatient demands and abusive threats, while still keeping a lid on his temper. Really, was this how he had sounded to Gordon?

Eventually word came that the building was secured, and the hostages were ushered out into the waiting arms of paramedics and ambulances.

Harvey jostled his way out of the crowd, and stalked over to the police cars. He grabbed the arm of a passing patrolman. "Where's Gordon?"

The man turned and gestured to one of the ambulances. Stomach tightening Harvey hurried his steps.

But it turned out Gordon was perfectly fine. He was standing by the back of the ambulance, just shooting the breeze with one of his officers.

His momentary fear turned to irritation. "Is this how you do a search Gordon?"

Gordon looked up, noticing Dent for the first time. He didn't respond to the slight note of contempt in Dent's voice. "No," he answered simply, "it's not."

And then Gordon shifted, and Harvey finally saw the battered looking Wayne sitting on the ambulance's bumper, holding an ice pack to the back of his head.

Relieved and feeling more than a little guilty, Dent rushed to his side. "You all right Wayne?"

"Oh I'm doing great."

Harvey pulled Wayne's hand away, so he could get a better look. "What happened?" he demanded then backtracked. "Wait – don't tell me. Wait until your official statement."

Gordon spoke up. "You can let him talk. You're not going to be able to prosecute this anyway."

"What?"

Gordon looked at him like it was obvious. "You were a hostage, you're now a witness. You can't also be the prosecutor."

Harvey bit back a curse. He knew that, but it wasn't fair; he wanted to be the one to nail these scumbags to the wall.

"Don't be greedy Harvey," Bruce said. "You're already prosecuting five hundred others. Let someone else have their turn," he admonished, patting him on the leg.

Harvey muttered under his breath and shoved Bruce's hand away, but the reminder of the case he _did_ have softened the blow.

Meanwhile Gordon had dismissed the other detective, and suddenly it was just the three of them again.

"So what happened?" Harvey asked, unconsciously lowering his voice.

Bruce fiddled with the ice pack, a flush creeping across his face. "Well there was really no point in me going out. Before we were even halfway there, your Batman swoops in and takes them out. I have to say I'm a little annoyed."

"And how did you reopen your head?" Gordon inquired.

The red deepened. "I sort of…the Batman's a scary guy, and he came out of nowhere."

Harvey could see where this was going.

Bruce seemed too embarrassed to look either of them in the eye. "Basically I panicked and then tripped myself down the stairs. I think the Batman actually laughed at me. Then he threw me in a closet and told me to stay there until the police came." A grimace. "Fifty bucks says that's tomorrow's headline."

"What is?" Harvey asked.

"'Wayne comes out of the closet.'"

Harvey laughed, and Gordon fought his own smile. Bruce mock glared at both of them.

Gordon turned serious. "It was a brave thing you did Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looked a little irritated. "But that's just it. I didn't do anything."

"Well you tried and that's what counts." Gordon was firm, and Harvey nodded his agreement.

"Bruce!" The shout startled them all, ripping them out of their private little world.

Instantly Wayne straightened. Three figures raced in and surrounded the billionaire. It was three of the hostages from the lesser group (Harvey reminded himself to not use that term when giving his own statement).

"Can you believe this?" one of them asked.

"Hey I told you it would be a fun party," Bruce laughed.

"I'll say," another grinned. "All the babes were with us."

"You should've been with us. You wouldn't believe what…" melodramatically the man dropped his voice to a whisper, and Bruce leaned forward eagerly.

The four of them formed a tight circle, shunting Gordon and Dent to the outside. Harvey could only watch as Wayne transformed before his eyes. There was no trace of the man he had gotten to know. The callous playboy was back, reveling in the adventure and already trading gossip about the other guests with his buddies (who didn't seem to understand the concept of 'just say no').

Gordon looked just as uncomfortable and awkward as Harvey felt. And when one of the millionaires made a disparaging remark about the police and Bruce agreed and launched into a crude joke, Gordon quietly made his excuses to Harvey and left to continue police business.

Harvey watched him leave, bristling on his behalf. He missed how Bruce's eyes followed the lieutenant as well.

* * *

Harvey worked tirelessly into the night. Arriving at the station he received a desperate hug and kiss from Rachel, and then she launched right into what needed to be done (oh how he loved her). He got his statement taken, and then he threw himself into the interviewing and deal making.

Unlike with Lau he didn't stay behind the glass for this one. Some tried to stick it out, but others were quick to do anything for a lighter sentence. While the deals meant that these guys wouldn't be getting the death penalty, Harvey was content to save that for when they caught the leader (who apparently along with a couple of others immediately went to ground when the Batman swooped down).

It was approaching midnight, a full day after the nightmare had begun. As the criminal he'd just finished with was escorted back to a holding cell, Harvey sighed, exhausted.

"You need to get some rest Harvey," Gordon advised with a sympathetic smile. "Or at least take a break."

Harvey was tired, but he wasn't about to go home. "I'll get some coffee. Don't start the next one without me."

Gordon nodded and turned away as another detective vied for his attention. Harvey had a feeling the mobsters would be out of this station before Gordon.

* * *

Harvey retreated to the small break room hidden in the back, hoping for some peace and quiet. Who was he kidding? He really did need a break. He groaned when he saw someone in there already. But then his tired eyes finally focused enough to see who it was. Bruce Wayne. What was he doing here at this time of night?

Harvey hesitated but then walked in. Bruce jerked at the door opening, immediately straightening up from his slumped posture. He lounged back into the chair when he saw who it was.

For his part Harvey carefully ignored the billionaire, just made his way to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.

Bruce tapped his fingers against his own glass, watching him with a small smirk on his lips, like he knew why Dent was mad at him and thought it was amusing.

"So how's the lawyering going?"

Harvey put the pot down with more force than necessary, but he held his temper. "We're just chugging away, almost got them all done. What are you doing here?"

"I have to give my statement."

Harvey looked at his watch. "Now? You know we're saving a lot of you for tomorrow." Despite his anger he found himself joining Wayne at his table.

A small smile. "I know. It's very kind of you." Polite and distant. Like they hadn't just spent an entire day consoling and conspiring their way out of a hostage situation.

Harvey waited but Bruce didn't say anything more. "So why don't you go home and we'll call you in the morning."

Another bland smile, but a haunted look appeared in his eyes. "I'm good here."

And then it Harvey, and he kicked himself for his idiocy; Bruce's penthouse was still a crime scene.

Two cops entered the break room just then, giving them a surprised look. Bruce flashed them a smile, one of his patented playboy false ones. And Harvey wondered when he had started labeling Wayne's facial expressions.

He took a sip of his own drink. "Did you get to see Alfred?" Harvey had seen the reports on the crime scene, and Alfred had been one of the ones taken to the hospital. He hadn't been ones of the ones listed as critical though.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, he's going to be fine. Doctors say he just bruised his…upper mitochondria? I don't know, I really couldn't understand them." Once again he had pulled out the dumber-than-molasses playboy routine. Harvey glared at him not appreciating it, and Wayne after a moment continued, serious. "He's sedated right now, so I decided to get my part done here."

In the middle of the night. "Does anyone even know you're here?"

"I'm waiting on Commissioner Loeb; he wants to be there for my statement."

Harvey wanted to be there too, if just to see how Bruce would act. Would he be the airhead he seemed to love pretending to be?

Bruce's attention had shifted to the cops' muted conversation in the other corner. Interest piqued, Harvey turned slightly.

"The hospital just released a statement. Another one of the criticals snuffed it."

A quiet curse from the other. "That makes four dead."

Harvey knew what they were talking about; he'd seen the report about the dead and injured the police had found at the penthouse. Three dead, four critical, and this news just switched the numbers. He turned back.

Bruce's face was shuttered, pained. If Harvey weren't already aware, this would have convinced him that the billionaire was capable of feeling.

The first cop whispered the next, but it was audible to both of them. "Wayne's going to be paying billions in lawsuits."

Harvey was on his feet, headed toward the cops. He held out a hand. "Henderson right?"

The older man nodded, warily shaking Dent's hand. Harvey turned to the woman. "And I don't believe I've met you Officer…?"

"Cabrera."

Harvey shook her hand, smiling. "Cabrera, yes. I've heard great things about you two. You've made quite a few impressive drug busts." The cops slowly smiled back.

Dent's disappeared. "But if you don't get back out on the streets in the next ten seconds, I'll make sure IA slaps each of you with a month's unpaid leave."

"What for?" Henderson bristled.

Harvey shrugged. "We'll start with harassing a civilian and unprofessional conduct. After that I'll look into every report you've ever filed. A month?" he scoffed. "I might even be able to get your badges."

The cops scowled, but muttering –loudly- under their breaths they left.

"They didn't look happy," Wayne commented, his lips twitching. "And what was that name they called you?"

"Well, working in Internal Affairs doesn't make you popular with the cops." He smirked and Bruce grinned back, the grief leaving his eyes for a moment.

Harvey changed the subject. "Look Wayne, Loeb's going to be hours. Why don't you go stay at a hotel for the night?" He wanted Wayne to go and forget about all this.

Bruce shook his head. "I'm fine with waiting."

"Or can't you stay with one of your friends?" Harvey asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure if any one of those friends would have had the decency to offer.

"That's an idea. I'll probably do that," Bruce agreed, not even bothering to make it seem genuine. Harvey could understand; he wouldn't want to stay with those guys either.

Silence descended. Harvey fiddled, his coffee finished. Bruce noticed. "Don't let me keep you. I'm sure you've got a lot to do."

It was true. He needed to get going. But he couldn't bring himself to leave Wayne all alone. He seemed…lonely.

Abruptly he came to a decision. "Come on."

Bruce looked up in surprise but followed obediently. "Where are we going?"

"To get some fresh air."

Bruce shook his head. "Harvey the press is a nightmare out front. I just…don't want to deal with it right now." It was a rare moment of honesty.

"Don't worry we're not going out there."

"Then where are we going?"

They reached the stairs. "The roof."

Harvey was halfway up the second flight before he realized Wayne was still standing at the bottom. "Come on."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't feel like going up."

"Why not?"

"I'm not that crazy about heights."

"You live in a penthouse Wayne."

Bruce didn't have an answer to that.

"Come on," Harvey cajoled impatiently, and out of excuses Bruce slowly followed him up to the roof.


	6. Chapter 6

Harvey walked out and leaned against the edge. It was calm, quiet. He breathed in the cool night air. Bruce followed behind, clearly uncomfortable.

"Relax Wayne."

Bruce obediently breathed deep, but it didn't seem to help.

"Do you really not like heights?"

"I'm not crazy about them."

"So don't look down."

"Thank you." Bruce heaved a breath. "Look Harvey, I appreciate whatever," he waved his hand, "this is, but you don't need to babysit me."

"I agree."

Bruce just looked at him for a moment. Harvey met his gaze. With a hint of a smile, Wayne looked back at the skyline. "You know this probably put a dent in your fundraising."

"Maybe not. And I've heard that one before."

Bruce ignored the criticism of his pun. "It's a cinch my pals won't be handing you money any time soon."

"Why not?" Harvey asked, genuinely curious. "We won."

"They won't see it that way."

"Then it's our job to make them see it that way."

Bruce shook his head. "It's not my job."

"Not technically no. But this is a big opportunity." Harvey leaned forward. "You can take a public stand _with_ us. Hit them where it hurts. Help take back this city."

"You don't have to schmooze me, Harvey. _I'm_ still giving to your campaign."

"This is not about writing a check Wayne," Harvey snapped. "It's more than that. You influence a lot of people. Your opinions and actions carry a lot of weight around here. Which is a sad statement about our society but still."

"Again thanks," Bruce responded dryly.

Harvey did not even pretend to feel sorry for what he had said. "Don't act hurt Wayne, you know what I mean. You act like a spoiled brat, and still the public cares about you. Think what you could do if you showed them who you really are. You could wake those socialite snobs up. Shake them out of their apathy."

Harvey thought he saw Bruce's gaze sharpen at the last statement but it disappeared in the next moment. "I thought that's your job," was the billionaire's only response.

"To inspire the rich?" Harvey snorted. "It took all I had not to shoot them myself."

"Should I be worried?"

Harvey shrugged. "Only if you say no."

"I'm not saying no," the billionaire's voice rose in frustration. "I already told you I'm on your side."

"No you're not. You're giving me cash. It's not enough."

"What do you want me to do? Wayne Enterprises has no connections with the mob. I create plenty of jobs, give good wages, and I give to a lot of charities. What more do you want?"

Harvey was ready with the answer. "I want you out there actively campaigning to take back our city. Supporting the measures we're taking against crime."

Wayne did not look impressed. "So you want me to scream from every news agency that 'I believe in Harvey Dent.'" He rolled his eyes. "Where did you come up with that ridiculous slogan anyway?"

"If you say yes you can change it to whatever you want," he offered.

"You'd trust me to do that?" the billionaire asked, amused.

Harvey studied him. "I think I could."

Bruce stared at him for a second then shook his head. "Even if I did what you wanted, it wouldn't make a difference. I'm just one man Harvey."

Harvey spun on his heel in frustration. Walking away he slapped his hand down, and the bat signal flared to life. He pointed into the sky.

"There's one man. He just took down eight members of the mob and saved fifty. That's what one man can do." Bruce seemed to be tuning him out, not even looking at him anymore. "I don't get it. Last night you were willing to risk your life and now you can't be bothered to even make a speech? Come on Wayne, your parents-" he cut himself off. Anger flared in Bruce's eyes.

Harvey held his hands up slightly in apology. He wasn't going to play that way.

"It's up to you Wayne. If you just want to be play the idiot all your life, pretend you have no responsibility, be my guest."

The anger was bleeding away, but the playboy was coming back. "I'm glad I have your permission."

"But I just-"

"Enough Harvey," Bruce cut him off. "I'll think about it."

And that was as good as it was going to get, Harvey realized, disappointed. He'd blown whatever chance he'd had.

They drifted into an uncomfortable silence.

Bruce looked at the bat in the clouds. "So this is how you talk to the Batman?" It was a poor attempt at changing the subject, but Harvey would take it. "You think he'll come tonight?" the playboy asked.

Harvey shrugged. "Don't know. We don't have anything to tell him. But it's a good reminder to people that he's out there."

Bruce walked over to the floodlight and almost reverently traced the outline. Maybe the reminder was getting to him too. Harvey looked back at the signal in the sky. The Batman had saved Bruce and all his guests. Surely Wayne would feel a certain obligation to him at least. Harvey squinted. Were there two bats up there? Puzzled Harvey turned -

- to find Bruce making hand puppets.

"Cut it out." So much for that, Harvey sighed to himself.

Bruce tossed him a smirk. But he did stop the shadow puppets. "Where's your sense of humor Harvey?"

Harvey shook his head, but he found despite his annoyance his own mood had lightened a little; it was part of Wayne's charm. And part of the reason Harvey wanted him on their team. "What exactly do you want to be when you grow up?"

Bruce threw him a wounded pout. "Ooh, passive aggressive. I like it. It's not really your style but I like it. And isn't that what you wanted? Me to join forces with you and Batman?"

"Not exactly what I meant."

"Why's the signal on?" Gordon's voice cut through their conversation as he stepped onto the roof.

Bruce immediately stepped away from the floodlight. "It was Harvey's idea." He jerked his head at Dent who threw him a dirty look. "It's his way of giving the mob the bird. In this case the bat."

Harvey rolled his eyes; Gordon's lips twitched as he turned it off.

"I didn't know you were here Mr. Wayne."

"Loeb's making him wait." Harvey's opinion of the man was evident in the tone. He found his dislike of cops was melding with his concern for Wayne.

"Well Commissioner Loeb can be…" Gordon trailed off, not really sure how to defend the man.

"When's his penthouse going to be released?"

"I can talk for myself Harvey."

"So talk."

"When's my penthouse going to be released?"

"Cute Wayne."

Gordon addressed his answer to Bruce. "Not for a couple of days. I apologize Mr. Wayne, but our investigators – "

"It's fine," Bruce rushed to assure him. Harvey raised an eyebrow.

"No it's not fine. Where's he supposed to live?"

"Harvey it's fine. I actually own a hotel you know."

Harvey snorted to himself. "Sure. A restaurant, a penthouse, a manor, a company. Why not a hotel too?"

"Don't be jealous. And it's two restaurants," Bruce corrected. "The hotel has its own restaurant." He smiled innocently at Harvey's glare.

Harvey didn't notice that Gordon kept glancing up until Bruce said, "I think you have to turn the signal back on if you want the Batman to come Lieutenant."

Gordon's attention snapped back to them. "No, sorry. It's just habit."

"Or we could leave some cookies and milk out."

Gordon for the first time looked a little annoyed with Wayne and opened his mouth to respond but Harvey intervened.

"Gordon ignore him. Wayne – shut it. You can act like an jerk with everyone else but you stop it with us." A slight smirk. "We promise we won't tell anyone."

The playboy seemed to consider it, an unreadable expression on his face. "All right," he said at last. He looked back to Gordon with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Lieutenant."

"And?" Harvey prompted.

"And I promise I won't act like a jerk with you two. But this doesn't mean that I'm going to help you," he added, pointing a finger at Harvey.

"We'll see about that."

"Help us with what?" Gordon asked.

"Fighting the mob."

"Not physically of course," Bruce clarified.

"Of course," Gordon agreed with a small smile. "But you've said no?" Harvey heard the disappointment in the question.

Bruce shifted, uncomfortable. "Not no exactly. I said I'd think about it."

Harvey glanced between them. Except for the cookies comment, Bruce seemed to act differently around Gordon. "I need to talk to Rachel before we interview the next guy. Gordon would you mind babysitting Bruce until Loeb gets here?" With a careful look at Gordon, and carefully ignoring Bruce's glare, he left the roof.

* * *

After Harvey left Gordon turned to Bruce. "He wants me to try to convince you."

Bruce smiled. "I think he wanted you to _subtly_ try to convince me."

Gordon just shrugged. After a moment he added, "You could be very helpful though."

"How?" Bruce let out a frustrated breath. "Apart from money what good can I do?"

Gordon looked at him. "Harvey needs all the support he can get. The mayor's hung him out to dry, the commissioner would love to see him fail. He's all alone."

"He's got you."

"And in the political arena my influence is zero. My job is to arrest the crooks and keep the bad guys away from the good guys. Which I failed spectacularly at yesterday," Gordon muttered the last.

"Not that again Lieutenant. You did your job, and you're part of the reason we're all back safe. Stop beating yourself up over it."

Gordon glanced at him, touched. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne." He returned to the subject, collecting his thoughts. "But you can do a lot with the political angle. You've seen how the media enjoys running down the Batman. Wait until you see what they do to a man they can actually attack. With a past they can dig up. Between the mob and the media every friend of his is about to sell him out."

The billionaire was listening. "But wouldn't my name just hurt his reputation?" It was said without any self-pity but Gordon winced anyway.

"Harvey doesn't seem to think it will. And I trust him to know his politics." _Just don't act like a sex-crazed moron_, he added silently. He was pretty sure Wayne knew what he was thinking though.

Bruce was subdued. "But if I say yes they start looking into my life too."

Gordon didn't know how to answer that. "You have every right to say no. Harvey…Gotham has no right to ask anything of you."

Bruce turned to face him fully, a fierce intensity in his eyes. "But you think I should do it."

"Yes."

The door opened and Ramirez appeared. "Commissioner Loeb is here and wants to talk to Mr. Wayne." She addressed herself professionally to Gordon but kept sneaking fangirl glances at Wayne. Bruce ignored her, probably used to it. Gordon waved her away.

Bruce heaved a sigh, preparing himself. Unthinkingly Gordon gently clapped him on the shoulder. He immediately remembered himself and began to remove his hand, but the billionaire's look of gratitude stopped him. He squeezed Bruce's shoulder.

Another breath and then Bruce straightened. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Harvey, poring over files, looked up when they entered. "Commissioner Loeb wants to do this in his office. Rachel'll be in there too." Harvey had arranged it that way, even though he'd wanted to be in there, figuring Rachel would be more comfortable for Bruce.

Bruce seemed appreciative. "Thanks."

"Are you ready to do it?"

Bruce paused for a long moment. "Yes," he said firmly.

Harvey glanced from Gordon to Bruce. He had heard several layers of meaning in that one word. "Yes what?"

"Yes I am ready to do my interview with Loeb." Another pause. "And yes I will help you."

Harvey stared at him. "You mean that?"

"Yes."

Harvey didn't show much emotion, but he held out his hand and Bruce took it. "All right," he said, and the enthusiasm began to build in his voice, "I'm glad you came around. We'll talk after your interview. Maroni's not going to know what hit him."

Bruce smiled at the last gleeful comment, then nodded to them and walked down the hall to Loeb's office.

"Good job Gordon," Harvey murmured, impressed.

"I'm as surprised as you are," Gordon answered honestly.

Bruce ducked his head back out the door. "But I'm reserving the right to jump ship if this thing goes south." A grin and he was gone.

Harvey scowled after him. Gordon went back to work, hiding his own grin.

* * *

The end. (A happy ending that those three deserved.)

A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, I am sorry this final chapter took so long.

If you are wondering why Harvey and Gordon don't figure out who Bruce is, I do have my reasons. Perhaps in a sequel they will connect the dots, but right now I don't think either of them are even thinking about who the real Batman is. Feel free to let me know if you disagree and we can discuss it. = )

Thanks for reading!


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